


a terror i can’t shake

by Tyranno



Series: Scions [3]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer, Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: (from tom king's run), Adult Artemis Fowl, Adult Damian Wayne, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, they actually kiss in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: Artemis slid the knot of his tie closer to his throat, adjusting his shirt collar to smooth out the wrinkle it formed.





	a terror i can’t shake

**Author's Note:**

> as far as the series goes, this story is supposed to happen a little later, but I doubt I'll have time to fill it in for a while. And besides I feel bad for having a series for this relationship but leaving it ages before they actually get anywhere. 
> 
> Past events mentioned in this are based off of [Batman #71](https://readcomiconline.to/Comic/Batman-2016/Issue-71?id=155456) (It's not really an issue worth reading tbh) 
> 
> x  
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Artemis slid the knot of his tie closer to his throat, adjusting his shirt collar to smooth out the wrinkle it formed. He stared into his own eyes in the mirror. Nobody would notice, but the line under his dark eyelashes was a little more pronounced than usual, the skin a little redder.

It had been a very long time since he’d spent without a Butler in the next room. It had affected him more than he’d care to admit. The Butler family, Domovoi in particular, exuded a kind of calm power that was so constant that Artemis only noticed how much it had reassured him until it was gone. His new bodyguard had the opposite affect—the other man had a strange element to him, powerful yes, but wily. If the Butlers had been faithful guard dogs at heel, then Damian was a viper he’d hidden in the grass. Artemis had hardly slept at all.

Artemis ran a comb through his hair again. It flopped down to the same position, a sleek shimmer of black. The hotel room door opened, and Damian slipped inside. A bottle of Irish spring water hung from between his knuckles, which he tossed at Artemis.

Artemis managed to snag it out of the air before it hit him in the face, though not without fumbling. He cracked open the bottle.

“Don’t be nervous,” Damian said, taking a sip of his cheap coffee.

“I’m not nervous,” Artemis said.

“Don’t lie either,” Damian grimaced, “You’re terrible at it.”

Artemis took a sip of his water, and pointedly chose to ignore that. He knew for a fact that he was a great liar, “This is a trivial meeting in a public restaurant. All I’m doing is strengthening connections to Fowl Industries and perhaps negotiating some small changes to existing deals. We aren’t even proposing anything new.”

“Then don’t be nervous.”

“I’m _not—_” Artemis gritted his teeth. “Look. We should get going.”

Damian pushed off the wall, slinking towards his jacket and pulling it on, “There’s no need to worry. You’ll probably be sufficient.”

Artemis shot him a withering look, “I _appreciate_ that, Wayne. Now, let’s go.”

*

Three hours later, Artemis’ ears rang from a thunderclap gunshot.

Bullets embedded into the soft furnishings near his ear. Artemis stared numbly around the room, at the half-dozen men in suits and the frightened customers. Wine from a smashed bottle shone like blood on the restaurant floor.

Damian snatched him by the shirt collar and yanked him under the table. He pulled out a knife from his shoe and pressed it into Artemis’ hands, curling Artemis’ stiff fingers around it. Artemis accepted it only distantly, his teeth gritted.

As Damian launched himself over the table top, Artemis sent up a curse to whoever was watching. _Trivial meeting_, Artemis repeated to himself, _Trivial meeting_. Maybe he was an idiot, if he thought anything he did could be _trivial_.

*

Artemis and Damian stumbled out of the restaurant much later, but in one piece. The city was already dark by then, and the streets flashed with rain slick cars. When he made it back to the hotel room, Artemis felt a strange coldness, halfway towards nervousness.

Damian batted Artemis away and stumbled towards the bathroom. Of the two of them, only Damian had been hurt, but Artemis didn’t know where, only that there was a dark red stain along one arm, and a buckle to his gait that suggested a torso injury.

Artemis followed him, hanging around the bathroom door.

“I can patch myself up,” Damian said, “You can sleep, Fowl.”

Artemis only watched him. Damian made no further objection. He shrugged off his black jacket and un-buttoned his shirt, showing his vest underneath. The sticky black-red stain spread from his elbow to his wrist, and Damian winced as he peeled the sleeve away. A weeping, sore red laceration cut into the pale brown forearm.

Damian cracked open a medicine kit with his free hand and fished out a small bottle of antiseptic. He used his teeth to unscrew the lid, and when he spit it out, he said, “You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

Artemis frowned. He wasn’t—not in the sense that he ever thought Damian would turn on him, not really. He couldn’t even see Damian deciding he was more trouble than he was worth and giving up on saving him. Damian stuck by his word. But it was true… in the sense that Damian unsettled him.

“It wouldn’t be foolish to fear you. I’ve seen what you can do when you fight, even unarmed and outnumbered,” Artemis said, “But you don’t scare me.”

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t harm me or my family.”

“What tells you that?” Damian asked, flatly. He dabbed a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic onto his wound.

“My instinct.”

“Instinct,” Damian dropped the soiled bud into the trash and broke open a small cardboard box of sticky sutures, “I thought you were too logical to trust gut instinct.”

“Nonsense,” Artemis said, “Even the smartest man needs to trust his instincts. Trained instincts are informed by subconscious intelligence, by recognising patterns even your conscious brain can’t detect.”

“_-tt-_… is that so,” Damian stuck sutures to the top of the wound and drew the injury closed. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “Will you sit down?”

Artemis sat.

“You’re nervous around me,” Damian said, “Why?”

Artemis bristled, “I’m not—”

“You can’t lie to me,” Damian snapped.

Artemis glared. The chill of the tiles soaked through his legs.

“Tell me why,” Damian ordered.

For a moment, Artemis considered not answering him. It had been a long time since anyone had gotten under his skin as quickly or effectively as Damian Wayne did, which was extremely bizarre, because there were also moments when Artemis could almost like him.

“I looked you up,” Artemis said, “But I couldn’t find anything. Not in your name, fingerprints, photo ID, nothing.”

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Damian said, “Not knowing.”

“Forewarned is forearmed,” Artemis said, “You don’t even have medical records, despite your body showing evidence of surgery. It’s like you don’t exist.”

“My brother did a good job,” Damian mused.

Artemis watched him. Damian wrapped his arm in crisp white bandages and didn’t talk for a long while. The fluorescent lights above them buzzed dully. Damian tied off the bandages.

“I’ll talk if you disinfect my back,” Damian said, taking the corners of his vest and peeling it off. His spine was still mottled and bruised, welts taut and red over the arch of bone. A cut sliced through his upper back, cutting through a cluster of purple bruises like a storm-cloud.

“If I must,” Artemis retrieved the disinfectant bottle.

The first few dabs were hesitant, but Damian didn’t even flinch as the acid touched his tender skin. Damian breathed out shallowly, ribs burning.

“I love my Father,” Damian said, “And I believe he is a good man.”

Artemis felt a strange twinge of dread. He said nothing.

“But he was not always good to his children,” Damian shifted his shoulder, slightly, “and there was not just one incident, either. In retrospect he did his worst to his second son, Jason. Back then I thought the boy deserved it because he disobeyed, but he used to be loyal. I guess he found out the hard way how conditional my Father’s love and trust can be.”

Artemis wiped the wound as best he could and dried it with a corner of gauze. It was only shallow, and bled sluggishly.

“The last straw was the brother between me and Jason,” Damian said, “Drake was irritating, but in this case he was not at fault. My Father was upset at his fiancée for deserting, and Drake tried to comfort him. My Father struck him so hard he broke two teeth.”

Artemis stuck two superficial sutures over the wound and pulled the tab to tighten them. A roll of ruby red blood escaped and he dabbed it up, before pressing the gauze over it.

“My siblings and I distanced ourselves from him and I was taken in by the eldest, Grayson,” Damian said, “and Drake wiped me from every database for mention of me, so my father couldn’t claim custody of me and retrieve me.”

“Custody?” Artemis frowned, “How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” Damian said.

Artemis’ frown softened. His fingers lingered on Damian’s mottled-purple back, staring at the gauze which was peeling at the corners.

“At the time—” Damian’s voice faltered for a moment, the first time that it had in his whole retelling. He swallowed, thickly, and when he continued it was soft, “At the time, I thought it was an overreaction. The line between striking a pupil in training and striking them in anger had never been clear to me.”

Artemis watched the back of Damian’s head. Not once had the other man turned to look at him through this entire conversation. Artemis had nearly memorised the nape of his neck, the old scars which marred the ridge of muscle over his shoulders.

“After that I was sent to Madame Ko’s,” Damian said, flatly, “And now I’m here.”

“And now you’re here,” Artemis agreed, fixing the peeling gauze and pressing a larger piece over it, “Do you want me to put iodine on your bruises?”

“No need,” Damian said, “I’ll do it myself later. Turn the light off, though, I have a headache.”

“If you’re sure,” Artemis pulled the chain to switch the light off. The bathroom flooded with darkness. Artemis gave the gauze one final adjustment, but when he was finished, he strangely had no urge to move away. The chill of the tiles had stiffened his joints, and all that waited for him in the other room was a dull book of statistics and another sleepless night. After the madness of the derailed meeting, all he really wanted was to feel calm.

“Bodyguard training seemed most logical,” Damian said, turning to finally look at him,“Martial arts have always been my speciality.”

“How long have you been training?”

“Since birth,” Damian said, “And not ‘since birth’ as Juliet says, with her biweekly hour-long lessons. I mean I scarcely did anything else for my first ten years—or after that, to be particular.”

They were close, Damian filled Artemis’ vision. It was unusual for him to be this close to someone else, even Butler kept a respectful distance. Artemis could trace every tired line in the other man’s face, every scar which distorted his skin.

“Then how do you know you like it?” Artemis asked, “If you’ve always done it, maybe there’s something else you like more?”

“I like being good at it,” Damian said, “and I’m very good.”

“But didn’t you ever want to be anything else?”

“What, can you imagine me as a Chef? A Librarian?” Damian scoffed, “I have many talents, but I was born to do this.”

“You can speak ten languages,” Artemis insisted, laying his hands flat on the cold tiles, “You know enough biology for a PhD, you’re a great athlete. You could be born to do something else.”

Damian’s eyes flashed, “And what about you, then? You inherited a criminal empire and you excelled at it. You doubled and tripled your finances, you engineered plans from inside your mansion before you lost all your baby teeth.”

“What are you trying to say?” Artemis narrowed his eyes.

“I’m saying your nature is immutable,” Damian said, “It was never about the money or the connections. You were born a criminal, like me, and you have a criminal’s need for risk.”

“Is that so?” Artemis asked, tilting his head. He couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or intrigued.

“You say you’ve changed but somehow you still end up in meetings which turn homicidal,” Damian said, “You’ve changed—but why do you still need a bodyguard who can kill someone as soon as look at them?”

“Guess I’m unlucky,” Artemis said, dryly.

“It’s deliberate.”

“I promise it isn’t.”

“You can’t lie to me,” Damian’s nose was so close it brushed his.

“You keep saying that,” Artemis said, “You’re bluffing.”

Damian’s hand swung up in the space between them, and his finger landed on Artemis’ temple. Artemis’ eyes flicked to the hand and then back to Damian. Damian was so close, Artemis could count every eyelash around the other man’s slate-green eyes.

“Your brain, your silver tongue, is as smooth as wet ice,” Damian said, lowly, “Your words never hesitate, and neither do your thoughts. You decide things instantaneously. It’s impressive. That’s why people get fooled. It’s because they watch your mouth, and it never hesitates.”

Damian’s hand lowered until he pressed two fingers into Artemis’ collar bone. He felt the feather-soft vibrations of his pulse. The skin was warm and soft, untouched by the sun and pale as snow.

“Your body hesitates,” Damian murmured, fingers on Artemis’ skin, eyes on Artemis’ eyes, “You tense a little with every lie you make. Most people don’t know where to look, but I can see it plain as if it were written across your chest. Which it is.”

“Mind and body separate,” Artemis’ eyes half-closed, “Descartes was right, then.”

“Not really,” Damian said, fingers still pressing the pulse-point, “your body is just more honest. They both want the same thing.”

“Which is?”

“Danger,” Damian supplied.

Artemis watched him. Later, he would think his lapse in judgement because of his sleep deprivation, the exhaustion from the after-effects of adrenaline. But to tell the truth, Damian was right. Artemis had a temptation for danger.

So he kissed him. It was soft, and warm. Artemis felt a hand card through his hair, and noted with brief annoyance that Damian’s body did not tense. Had he been able to predict this, too? Artemis pressed close, enjoying the run of Damian’s calloused hands down his sides. He found, after deliberation, that he didn’t mind.

Artemis broke away.

Damian watched him, dark-eyed and thoughtful. He licked his lips.

Whatever anxiety Damian had sparked in him earlier, Artemis found it banished. Damian’s gaze was soft and his posture yielding. Their noses bumped together, two affectionate animals in the dark.

**Author's Note:**

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pls r&r :)


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